


Knowing

by Maleficar



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maleficar/pseuds/Maleficar
Summary: Sephiroth's behavior changes. Reno has to know why. Reno discovers Sephiroth's affair with Zack. Sephiroth has some feelings about that.
Relationships: Reno/Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Zack Fair/Sephiroth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iciseria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iciseria/gifts).



Reno didn’t like when other people were unpredictable. It was an old predilection, born during a time in his life when unpredictable behavior usually meant nearly dying. So when Sephiroth’s behavior started changing, Reno reacted with perhaps a bit more urgency than everyone else.

The other Turks didn’t notice. Tseng might have since nothing seemed to happen in Midgar that Tseng didn’t know about, but Reno didn’t bring it up with Tseng. He brought it up with Rude. Rude didn’t have much to say about it, but Rude didn’t have much to say about a lot of things. Reno liked Rude for that reason. Rude’s silence gave Reno space to say a lot about a lot of things.

He mentioned it in passing to Cissnei, just to see if she had any opinions on the matter. She very gravely laid her hand on his shoulder and said, “People who stick their hands too deeply into dark holes run the risk of losing them.”

Reno laughed. “If you really think that, you’re in the wrong profession.”

“Reno, there are some dark places you just don’t go. Sephiroth’s life is one of them.”

That actually gave him pause.

Sephiroth’s life wasn’t a dark hole. Not to the Turks. They had _files_. They knew how many times a day Sephiroth took a shit, specifically because Hojo kept track of everything.

But the lure of some secret knowledge was too great. To be a Turk, you needed to have pretty much one character trait and one character trait only: the driving desire to poke into those dark holes that terrified other people so much.

And maybe a questionable relationship with morality.

Reno had both of those qualities, to an almost concerning degree. Being able to _know something_ that no one else did nearly overwhelmed his very well-formed sense of self-preservation.

Nearly.

He put Sephiroth’s behavior from his mind. What did he care if the man was thirty seconds late to training this one time?

It definitely didn’t matter when Sephiroth showed up a whole minute late to a meeting with Tseng.

And no one would find it remarkable when Sephiroth began eating lunch in the mess hall with every other SOLDIER in the program.

Well. No one _else_ would find it remarkable.

Humans were creatures of habit. Sephiroth leaned on habit more than anyone else, whether to soothe neuroses or because he was just that rigid. Sephiroth changing his habits was something to notice. Sephiroth changing his habits meant something.

“Fuck it,” Reno muttered to himself, sliding out of the mess.

Sephiroth was busy. He was eating lunch with Angeal and Angeal’s trainee—Zack. After lunch, he had a two-hour long meeting with Shinra and Heidegger to discuss the war in Wutai. After that, he’d be stuck with Hojo until well into the evening. If ever there was a time to sniff around Sephiroth’s business, it was now.

For all Reno had a very well-developed sense of self preservation, he also had a very well-developed appreciation for his own skill. He’d been skulking around the shadows longer than Sephiroth had been alive. He knew how to get in and out of a place undetected. That was his whole fucking job, and one over-powered super SOLIDER, even one as smart as Sephiroth, could be outsmarted by one clever spy.

It wasn’t as if Reno didn’t understand Sephiroth’s capabilities, either. He was exceedingly familiar with what Sephiroth could do. He watched the news. He read the internal reports. He read Hojo’s self-important papers.

_Knowing things_ was Reno’s job.

So he was going to know a new thing.

He broke into Sephiroth’s office in just under two minutes, leaning against the wall beside the door and overriding the security on his phone. He didn’t actually _need_ to override the security. He could get into any office on this level with his own keycard. Shinra probably didn’t realize how much of his tower the Turks actually had access to. Shinra probably thought he held their leash, as if they wouldn’t take what they knew about him and sell it to someone else if someone else could pay them better and protect them from the multiple one many armies in his employ.

Breaking in without using his keycard in this instance just meant no one would be able to track him back to Sephiroth’s door. The system wouldn’t even register the door as being opened.

No one would ever know.

Reno slipped inside the door, and it swished shut behind him.

He locked the door after a moment’s pause, but only because that would give him an extra second to hide if he needed to.

Not that there was anywhere to hide in Sephiroth’s utilitarian office space.

Reno stood just inside the door, surveying the room with a critical eye. He’d given it similar looks in the past, assessing it for dangers—places Sephiroth could hide weapons, places assassins (ha) might try to hide themselves, things like that.

Now, he looked at the bare space and tried to figure out where he might hide information he didn’t want anyone to know.

Sephiroth didn’t keep filing cabinets. His desk was solid wood with drawers on either side, but when Reno tried them, they were unlocked. He wouldn’t put it past Sephiroth to leave interesting information lying about in unlocked drawers, so he paged through what little was there.

Nothing good. Nothing that would explain Sephiroth’s changes in behavior.

Shutting the drawers, Reno pushed Sephiroth’s chair away from the desk and then plunked down. He spreads his hands over the top of the desk. Bare except for a laptop Reno knew better than to hack (it was on Shinra’s network anyway, so nothing there was secret) and an outbox empty except for two, thin manila files.

Reno dropped his chin into his hand, resting his elbow on the desk. He tapped out an idle rhythm on the wooden surface, his eyes skipping over the chairs across from the desk (plastic, no cushions, designed to make people get to the point as fast as possible) to the otherwise empty space.

Someone had laid out a thick rug on the floor and hung some abstract art on the walls presumably to make the space echo less.

But that was it.

There was nothing else.

Reno shifted his chin to his other hand, exhaling dramatically.

Sephiroth had to have _some_ kind of taste, but as far as this office went, the only thing Sephiroth liked was no thing at all.

He flicked a finger at the thin pile of folders.

And his eyes widened.

They didn’t lay flat. No, they bowed over something, their centers lifted away from the flat bottom of the outbox.

Reno cast a glance toward the door as he slipped one finger beneath the folders. He lifted the folders slowly, eyes lingering on the door. At any moment, he could drop down and tuck himself under the desk—the only hiding place in the entire room.

Granted, if Sephiroth returned before Reno expected him, he’d find Reno there anyway, and Reno would probably die. But that was a problem for future Reno.

Present Reno was _so close_ to—to a burner phone.

A delighted grin stretched across his face.

With two fingers, Reno slid the phone out of the outbox and across the desk, bringing it to rest in front of him.

Thin. Small. An older model, one with a tiny, pixel screen and analog buttons you pushed multiple times to click through letters.

He pushed the power button. A logo he wasn’t familiar with scrolled in chunky squares across the screen, green and black and outrageously dated.

Whatever was on this phone had to be good. Hidden in plain sight. Disconnected from the networks that Shinra monitored. Even if it got reception, there was no way the phone was on a modern, digital line. Which meant that even phone calls or texts would be kept secret.

Clever. Fucking clever.

The phone had only two options: call and text. Naturally, Reno opened the call log. Only one number, only ever outgoing. He didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t surprising.

Pulling his own phone from his pocket, he tapped into his contacts and began typing in the same number.

Two digits in, the phone auto filled Zack Fair’s number.

“Treason?” Reno murmured, setting his phone aside and peering with greater interest at the one in front of him. “Secret plots? What the fuck are you doing here, Sephiroth?” And with Zack Fair no less, the well-meaning but idiotic newest member of SOLDIER.

Reno almost regretted recruiting the kid.

Almost.

He backed out of the contacts list and opened the text messages.

Zack hadn’t responded to the most recent message, and it—

Reno didn’t consider himself easily riled, but heat spread across his face. Fuck. _Fuck_. Since when did Sephiroth know language like _this_?

_I want to watch you writhe on my bed, your wrists bound above your head. I want to feel your breath hot against my neck while I fuck you with my fingers and you moan for more._

This wasn’t Reno’s job, not really. He didn’t need to know who Sephiroth was fucking, even if that someone was another SOLDIER. He didn’t—

Yeah, right, who was he kidding? He absolutely needed to know this.

Without hesitating, he scrolled up through a long, long list of text messages. After a minute or two, he glanced nervously at the door, knowing he was pushing his luck.

After another minute, he swore softly. “How fucking horny can one guy be?”

Very.

He’d gone back _three months_ and there was still plenty more. Sephiroth and Zack texted frequently. More, it seemed, when Zack was away on missions, which made sense.

_847_

_Update me on your mission when it’s complete._

_848_

_dont worry abt me <3_

_2102_

_covered in blood smell like shit am alive_

_gona shower then mayb sleep_

_miss you_

_2102_

_How tired are you?_

_2105_

_could mayb take call_

_2105_

_Call me after you’ve showered. Don’t masturbate in the shower, Zack. I want to hear you moan my name when we talk._

_2109_

_can def take a call_

Reno wasn’t about to check the call log to confirm that Zack had, in fact, taken that call. He trusted it happened based on the incredibly graphic back and forth they’d had the night before Zack left on his mission.

He scrolled up, paused, and started skimming the conversation, utterly fascinated. Zack’s texts were as sloppy and inconsistent as his reports, the exact opposite of Sephiroth’s, but when they were deep into a heated exchange, Zack displayed a meager grasp of the Gaian language.

Shit.

They talked about sucking each other off, about Sephiroth fucking Zack hard and fast, about how they wanted to jack each other off after missions or during briefings. They went into graphic detail about the things they were going to do to each other. And Reno—Reno couldn’t look away.

This wasn’t a thing he was into. Sexting didn’t do it for him. Never had. But fuck if his dick wasn’t half hard and growing harder with each line.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew this was a line he definitely shouldn’t cross with Sephiroth, but, fuck, this was better material than most porn. So he kept reading.

Right up until the office door’s lock clicked, and the door slid open.

Reno dropped the phone to Sephiroth’s desk, lurching backwards.

Sephiroth stood just inside the door, an utterly inscrutable expression on his face.

Several minutes passed in frozen silence. Reno stared at Sephiroth, waiting for the moment the other man would step across the room and choke the life out of him. Snap his neck. Shatter every bone in his body.

He wasn’t about to do either of them the disservice of a lie, though. He made no excuses.

But as the silence stretched on, agonizing and increasingly disquieting, he had to say something. “Interesting training methods you’re using.”

That did it. Sephiroth took a step forward, and suddenly Reno found himself becoming very well acquainted with the wood grain pressing hard against his face.

Sephiroth’s body curved over the back of his. Fear snapped down his spine, but his body, still half turned on from reading this same man’s horny sexts to his boyfriend, decided to respond to that jolt of fear with a wash of heat. His cock grew harder, a sweet ache made somehow sweeter by the weight of Sephiroth against him.

He knew he shouldn’t be turned on by this, but, well. He’d come face to face with his own mortality plenty of times before, and he’d survived all _those_ times. Experience—and his historical survival—suggested he’d survive this, too.

“Turks,” Sephiroth said, letting the word drop from his lips like a curse.

Fair, Reno thought. He grunted as Sephiroth’s hand, wrapped in a smooth, leather glove, ground his face harder into the desk.

“Always digging into things best left alone.” He exhaled heavily, his breath washing over Reno’s neck. Hot. Wet.

_I want to feel your breath hot against my neck while I fuck you and you moan for more_ , Sephiroth had written.

Reno’s cock hardened more, and he wheezed against the desk.

What, did he really think Sephiroth would fuck him like he fucked Zack? Did he really think he’d get out _that_ lucky?

Sephiroth’s hand shifted, dragging over Reno’s cheek to curl around his throat. The SOLDIER’s thumb pressed hard against the side of his neck, and Reno shuddered. He felt his pulse struggle against the weight of Sephiroth’s hold.

“Did you like what you read?” Sephiroth’s other hand fell on Reno’s hip with bruising force. “Did it distract you so much you forgot the time?” The sound Sephiroth made was not a laugh. It wasn’t even a dark chuckle. It was something malevolent and terrifying, something that scraped against the edges of sanity and teetered toward instability. “Do you want to know if it’s true, _Turk_?”

What the actual fuck.

Reno wheezed, finally starting to struggle.

“If you move, I’ll snap your neck,” Sephiroth said with such casual indifference that even Reno was momentarily stunned.

Sephiroth’s hand slipped from Reno’s hip. Long fingers ran along the length of his cock, and he bit back a groan. Fuck, that felt _good_. Felt better because of the danger, the threat, the promise of destruction.

He’d always liked dancing on a knife edge. The thrill of being caught and then getting away by the skin of your teeth—the thrill of _success._ He only rarely failed, and when he did… Well. Maybe he liked when the blade cut into him, just a little.

“What if I do wanna know?” Reno asked, figuring audacity was the best refuge. Meet Sephiroth on the same field. Push back. Show the SOLDIER unsubstantiated threats wouldn’t work on him.

But these threats weren’t unsubstantiated. Sephiroth _would_ kill him. He knew that. Fuck, he knew that so well, but it wasn’t in him to just lay back and do nothing. He goaded his enemies. He threw them off by throwing their own words back in the faces.

“Maybe—” He coughed as Sephiroth’s fingers worked between his neck and the desk, applying pressure to his windpipe. “—I wanna know if you’re that good.” Good enough for Zack to risk his career on.

Another sound like laughter spilled from Sephiroth’s lips, but it was cold and dark. A normal person would be terrified of a sound like that. A normal person would beg forgiveness, promise silence, and run like hell.

Reno wasn’t a fucking pussy. He didn’t run. Everything was leverage, even Sephiroth bent over his back, caging him with his body.

“Your greatest fault,” Sephiroth said as his hand smoothed over Reno’s mostly hard dick, “has always been that you can’t find the line.” Two fingers hooked in the waist of Reno’s pants and pulled.

The button and zipper broke.

Reno let out an indignant cry, finally deciding that, hey, Sephiroth shoving his face against the line had helped him find it and now he was ready to go. He didn’t need to take more of this, no matter how interested his dick was.

Warm leather closed around the length of him. One firm drag from base to tip had Reno gasping against the desk, pleasure momentarily shutting down every part of his brain. Fuck, his vision even blanked for half a second. He shuddered beneath Sephiroth’s much larger body, no longer sure if he should resist or just give in.

“I’ve fucked him here.” No heat touched Sephiroth’s voice. Not an ounce of feeling warmed Sephiroth’s voice. “Bent over my desk, just like this.”

Sephiroth’s started a rough, hard pace. Every stroke pulled a knot of pleasure at the small of Reno’s back tighter, harder. Sweat trickled down his spine, cold against the burning heat of his body.

With a groan, he arched into Sephiroth’s touch. It felt _good_ , so good, that strange texture of leather on his dick.

Sephiroth’s squeezed just beneath the head of his cock, and Reno swore. His thumb dragged over the tip, and Reno’s breath exploded out of him on a wheeze.

Against the curve of his ass, he felt the hard line of Sephiroth’s cock. It pressed against him, and Reno’s brain, drugged by rapidly building pleasure and the thrill of being caught, chose to interpret this as very, very good. Exceptionally good. Delightful even.

Abruptly, Sephiroth’s hand around Reno’s throat turned harder, harsher. In a single motion, Sephiroth yanked him up and back. The crushing force of one hand held Reno pinned against Sephiroth’s chest.

“I made him beg for it.” Sephiroth’s hand raked down Reno’s chest as he continued stroking him.

Fuck, every touch made Reno harder, made his dick twitch in Sephiroth’s grasp. The smartest part of his brain knew to keep still. The second smartest part of his brain, the part that recognized Sephiroth as the most dangerous predator in the whole city, wondered if even the motion of breathing might get him killed.

“Yeah?” Reno asked. “You want to hear—”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” Sephiroth said. Hot breath washed over Reno’s neck. In the smooth, polished metal of the door exactly opposite them, Reno saw Sephiroth turn his head toward the fragile column of Reno’s throat.

For a second, he thought Sephiroth might kiss him. For a second, he wanted that kiss more than he wanted to live.

Instead, Sephiroth’s bit down on Reno’s throat, and there was nothing sexy about it, except for the way the pain made his hips rock hard into Sephiroth’s hand. He managed to smother his groan and managed to keep his eyes open—no way would he close them.

This was too dangerous.

But he wasn’t going to walk away.

Facing a choice between self-preservation and Sephiroth doing whatever the fuck this was, he’d chose this.

Sephiroth’s fingers tore open the clasp holding Reno’s jacket shut. He drew away just enough to catch the back of the collar in his fingers and yank it down Reno’s back, tangling fabric around Reno’s wrists and trapping him even more.

Another shudder rippled through him. More heat throbbed between his legs, making his cock ache. When Sephiroth’s finger drew hard over the tip, he swore—and then immediately winced, bracing himself for Sephiroth’s retribution.

“If you can’t be silent—” Sephiroth abruptly shoved Reno back to the surface of his desk, “—which has always been a problem of yours, I’ll _make_ you silent. Don’t move.”

Sephiroth’s hands drew away.

Reno lay against the desk—half naked, his arms tangled in his own shirt and jacket, his cock so hard it hurt—and just tried to breathe. Moving didn’t even occur to him. Why the fuck would he ever want to get away from _this_?

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric, but he couldn’t get his brain to even consider what those sounds might be.

Hard, bare fingers closed around his jaw. Sephiroth yanked his mouth open only to shove something warm and soft between his lips.

A glove, Reno realized. He twisted violently between Sephiroth’s body and the desk, only to find a hand around his throat again.

The feeling of Sephiroth’s skin on his shouldn’t be devastating, but, fuck, it was. Sephiroth touched nothing and no one, and the glide of rough calluses along his throat made him groan around the glove.

“Better.” Sephiroth observed, his hand returning to Reno’s dick. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he couldn’t take much more of this. “When Zack comes here, he’s smart enough to bring lube.” Ah, shit. “Did you have that much foresight? Hm.”

If he didn’t have Sephiroth’s gloves jammed in his mouth (or Sephiroth’s hand on his dick because that, really, was the bigger problem here), he would have reminded the SOLDIER that Turks were _always_ prepared.

Not that he had lube. Today.

“How will I show you what I give Zack, then? Ah. I know.”

Dark promise laced those words. Dangerous poison dripped from the needle-sharp consonants. Reno had never wanted someone to poison him more in his life.

Sephiroth’s hand closed tighter around Reno’s cock. His speed increased. With every draw, he squeezed just beneath the head of Reno’s cock, and it took little time for him to reduce Reno to an aching, shivering mess.

His hips arched into every pull, seeking more pleasure. His cock ached, the friction Sephiroth provided so good but still not enough.

He couldn’t control any of the pace—whenever he tried, Sephiroth exhaled a sound like a snarl, and it was cold enough, threatening enough, that Reno relented. He was here for the ride, for whatever Sephiroth decided to give him.

No control.

For the first time in his life, he had no control.

That was the thought that pushed him over the edge. Pleasure sheered through him, a knife just beneath his skin. It cut him until he bled, it cut him as Sephiroth laughed in his ear, and it left him panting on the surface of Sephiroth’s desk, reeling.

“Helpful,” Sephiroth said.

Reno’s brain struggled to understand what Sephiroth meant. Then the post-nut clarity hit him like a fucking train just as Sephiroth shoved Reno’s pants down his thighs.

He tried to spit the glove out of his mouth, tried to voice his protest as two fingers, covered in his own cum, probed against his ass.

Without giving him any time to brace himself, Sephiroth pushed those fingers past Reno’s entrance.

The leather in his mouth muffled his shout of surprise.

Fuck, it hurt. It hurt, but the pleasure of his orgasm still lingered, and his body didn’t know which sensation to prioritize. The pain and pleasure tangled together until he felt like he was in a fight—the good kind of fight, where someone gave as good as they got, where the pain of each strike muddled with the rush of the adrenaline until all you cared about was the next hit, the next blow, the next exchange of brutality.

It hurt and it felt _good_ and Reno didn’t give a fuck about this pain.

Sephiroth’s fingers probed deep. Dragged over a spot deep inside of him that made him cry out again. His spent dick twitched as more pleasure wrapped around the pain, as more sensation screamed up his spine and into his brain until parsing the kind of feeling didn’t matter as much as _getting more_ of whatever the fuck it was.

He wasn’t embarrassed to say he writhed between Sephiroth’s body and the desk. He wasn’t embarrassed to say that when the side of his thigh brushed against the hard line of Sephiroth’s dick, he shifted to rock back against it.

Sephiroth’s free hand wrapped around Reno’s soft dick, and he wasn’t all that upset about the fact that he whimpered. Anyone else in the same position would’ve made the same aching, needy sound. Would’ve started begging and pleading for more however they could. Reno didn’t beg, couldn’t beg, but he took whatever he could get.

More bright, sharp pain when Sephiroth’s fingers dragged against his entrance. More pleasure when those same fingers pressed inside him, when Sephiroth’s hand stroked along his cock.

It’d been long enough since he’d even jacked himself off (he’d been busy, okay?) that he was hard again soon enough, thrusting into Sephiroth’s hand like a horny teenager who’d just discovered his dick.

Didn’t matter what he got, pain or pleasure, as long as he got more. Fuck, he needed _more_.

Sephiroth gave him less. His fingers withdrew from Reno’s body.

Sephiroth gave him more. His hand stayed tight around his dick.

Fabric rustled behind him, and all Reno could think was _yes, yes, yes_. The only possibility his brain allowed for was Sephiroth undoing his belt and pulling open his pants. And when Sephiroth curved over his back again, the hot line of his dick sliding over Reno’s ass, his brain was both thrilled by the stimulation and ever so pleased to be right.

“You’re _not_ Zack,” Sephiroth said, his voice a low, rumbling purr right against Reno’s ear. Fuck, but that was a threat. Reno knew it. His brain knew it, and his body knew it, but the threat made pleasure pulse through him as his body tensed. “Scream if you’d like.”

The head of Sephiroth’s dick pushed against his entrance, and Reno fought against the instinct to tense even more.

Cum made poor lube. Tight muscles made a dick pushing into a body the worst kind of unpleasant.

He screamed against the glove shoved into his mouth, fists closed tight where they were trapped between Sephiroth’s belly and his own back.

But, fuck, Sephiroth’s hand never left his dick. It just kept playing with him, and as Sephiroth eased deeper, that initial, blinding pain took a backseat to a kind of pain Reno _liked_. That persistent burn twisted up inside him, joined the ecstasy of Sephiroth’s callused fingers dragging down the length of his very hard dick.

No mistake, this wasn’t about him anymore. This was about Sephiroth and control and power—Sephiroth’s over him, and his inability to do anything about it.

Didn’t matter. Fuck, it didn’t matter. That powerlessness made it better even though Reno despised being so weak. Never let someone take advantage of you. If they got the jump on you, if they figured out how to take advantage, turn it against them by making it seem like your idea. He couldn’t really do any of that. This _wasn’t_ his idea, and he couldn’t control any of it.

But fuck did he like it.

Sephiroth set a brutal pace. Every thrust jammed the edge of the desk against Reno’s stomach. It hurt, but it hurt _good_. Beneath them, the desk scraped against the floor.

More pleasure curled in Reno’s body, a push and pull between the dick inside him and his dick in Sephiroth’s hand. The pleasure complemented the pain, each sharpening and sweetening the other. They built on each other until he felt so much, he thought he might actually come apart from it.

He came with another cry, with a grimace, with his eyes rolling back in his head as he tried to process whether this felt good or bad or like something else entirely.

Sephiroth’s hands left his dick. One curled around his wrists. The other settled on his hip.

Without mercy, Sephiroth took what he wanted.

Reno lay over the desk, eyes closed, body limp, and gave Sephiroth the brutal fuck he demanded. His body was lax and pliant, content to be used. Fuck, he liked this.

Surely that was normal.

And then Sephiroth jerked him into one last, hard thrust.

Silence fell over the room. The sound of bodies meeting stopped. There was no rustling of fabric or clothing. Sephiroth wasn’t even breathing hard. The only sounds were Reno’s own muffled groans of satisfaction and delight.

Sephiroth drew away.

Reno, moving slowly, aware that one wrong move would definitely get him murdered, shrugged his shirt and jacket over his shoulders to free his arms and then pulled Sephiroth’s glove from his mouth. He left it on the surface of the desk.

Standing upright, he pulled up his pants and grimaced at the feeling of cum all over his ass and his cock.

He needed to change his pants.

He needed a shower.

He needed to fill the silence.

“Well,” he said, zipping himself up and turning to Sephiroth. Aside from the missing glove, Sephiroth looked entirely put together, as if they hadn’t just fucked over his desk like animals. “That was—”

“Leave.”

Reno hesitated for just a moment, inhaling to speak.

He kept his silence. After all, he’d gotten what he wanted. He knew what Sephiroth was up to. He knew _exactly_ what—who—Sephiroth was doing.

Life was better for knowing.

He shut the door to Sephiroth’s office behind him, rolled his shoulders back, and cracked his neck. Cum slid down the inside of his thigh. He _really_ needed a fucking shower.


End file.
